


The Reveal

by Rb (stirringsofconsciousness)



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AND YET HERE I AM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, F/M, Gen, I haven't written fanfic for over ten years and yet here I am, Star Trek References, i am too old for this ship, idk how this works but it does somehow, jason blossom is still dead, remarkably little canon divergence necessary though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirringsofconsciousness/pseuds/Rb
Summary: "Whatever was used to shoot Jason Blossom in the head cauterized the wound as it went. Whatever was used to kill him  burned as it went through his skull.”Jughead tilted his head at her as he went through the implications. “So...like a phaser? Like Star Trek?”“That’s what it’s like, but that’s ridiculous.” Beside her, Rachel stiffened, gripping her fork tightly.---An Animorphs/Riverdale crossover. How does this work? It works surprisingly well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [village_skeptic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/village_skeptic/gifts).



**The Reveal**

 

_Our story is about a town. A small town. And the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world. Safe. Decent. Innocent. Get closer, though, and you start seeing the shadows underneath..._

_We can't tell you who we are. Or where we live. It's too risky, and we've got to be careful. Really careful. So we don't trust anyone. Because if they find us... well, we just won't let them find us. The thing you've got to know is that everyone is in really big trouble. Yeah. Even you._

 

The thing about Riverdale, Betty Cooper thought ruefully, is that the town itself seemed resistant to change, both publicly and privately, even in the wake of major events.

Yes, Jason Blossom had gone missing on July 4th, and his dead body had just been found with a hole seared through its head. Yes, her sister Polly had suffered some kind of breakdown that summer, and was now “in convalescence” at an institution somewhere -- her parents wouldn’t say where, despite all of her pleas. Yes, she had confessed her feelings to Archie, and been gently yet firmly rejected. All of these events should be earth-shattering -- world-shattering, in fact.

And yet life went on. River Vixens practices were grueling, but regular. Betty’s parents worked at The Riverdale Register, but came home in time for dinner. Sophomore classes assigned incrementally more homework, but not significantly different than freshman year. And as much as Betty wanted the universe to acknowledge the major changes going on, the year went on as meticulously printed in the planner Riverdale High gave out the first day of classes.

And so came the mid-September Day known as Mentor/Mentee Day.

“I don’t get it,” Veronica complained as they lined up at the entrance of the high school. “What’s the point of having a day where kids from the middle school shadow us?”

“It gets them used to high school, so they won’t be too overwhelmed when they get here next year,” Betty explained patiently.

“But why now?”

“Rumor has it they do it in the fall so the eighth graders don’t think of themselves as big fish,” Kevin dropped in easily. “It works, too. Reggie Mantle was almost nice for a full three days after our visit. Then he started getting beer from his guide and it all went to hell.”

“Okay, that makes a little sense. But why was I assigned a middle schooler to babysit? I’ve barely been here for a New York minute, I’m not -- “ Veronica paused as Principal Weatherbee’s secretary handed her the info packet on her assigned student. “Wait, did they draft me as a guide because we’re the only two Latinx students in Riverdale?”

Betty took a moment to note Veronica’s pronunciation of “Latinx” for future usage before looking at her packet. In the upper right-hand corner was a headshot of a pretty blonde middle-schooler, while the rest listed her achievements and extracurriculars. _They’ve really got to fix the printer at the front office,_  Betty thought, _there’s a blot that’s completely obscuring her last name._

Veronica was already peeking over Betty’s shoulder. “OMG, B! She’s like your Mini-Me. Straight A’s, tons of extracurriculars -- Packard Foundation Outstanding Student, whatever that is.”

“I got that award in middle school, too,” Betty admitted.

“You guys are going to get along great. Meanwhile, I have some little baby boy who is super into -- “ she squinted at the paper. “ -- the M-C-U?”

Archie appeared then. “Guys, awesome news, my eighth grader is Tom Berenson’s little brother! Tom just quit the basketball team, maybe I can get his bro into football instead by stoking the sibling rivalry!”

“Maybe you could interest him in music lessons with Miss Grundy, too, and start the next generation of musical jocks,” Betty joked.

Archie’s smile faltered. “Yeah, I don’t know about that. Maybe I should just focus on football.”

Betty frowned, but before she could ask anything more, the middle-school bus arrived in the parking lot.

“Mentors, go find your mentees!”

“That is the most ridiculous term I’ve ever heard,” Kevin said as they started moving towards the buses. Veronica and Archie snickered.

Betty kind of liked the term, but rolled her eyes in agreement anyway.

She adjusted a wisp that had gotten free from her ponytail and prepared to be the best guide she could possibly be to her poor, confused mentee.

***

Betty had not been expecting her eighth-grade mentee to be taller than she was, or for her to be so model-esque. Like Veronica, Rachel strode through the halls of Riverside High like she had her own personal spotlight on her, but unlike V, she didn’t seem to notice any of the attention she was getting, or care.

It was ridiculous for Betty to be intimidated by a girl two grades younger than she was. Utterly ridiculous.

Rachel was also proving to be far from the Mini-Me that Veronica had suggested. Far from having questions or being impressed -- Betty still had a copy of the three-page list of questions she’d written down, before discovering that her mentor was her own sister and she could just ask the questions at the breakfast table -- Rachel just seemed...tired. She actually fell asleep during third-period trig, to Betty’s dismay.

_What kind of late nights is an eighth grader having?_

_And why am I feeling so lame in comparison?_

Rachel perked up a bit as lunchtime approached, and actually seemed vaguely interested in discussing the River Vixen routines on their way to the cafeteria. She was just explaining some basic gymnastics moves that the Vixens could incorporate into their routine when they ran into Principal Weatherbee standing at a hallway junction, deep in discussion with a man Betty recognized as Mr. Chapman, the assistant principal of the middle school.

“Ah, Betty Cooper! Just the person I wanted to see,” Weatherbee waved her over. By her side, Rachel stiffened, but followed.

“Hi Principal Weatherbee, Mr. Chapman,” Betty smiled.

“Mr. Chapman was just telling me about a very interesting organization he leads in the community, called -- I’m sorry, what was it again?”

“The Sharing,” Mr. Chapman said. He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. Betty was reminded that she’d never liked Mr. Chapman all that much as a middle school student. “It’s a great group. In fact, I told Rachel here about it not too long ago. Rachel, have you been thinking about joining?”

Rachel pulled her lips back in what Betty could tell was a lying-to-adults smile, the kind that Betty gave to her mother on a nearly daily basis. “I’m just really busy hanging out, doing stuff.”

“Well, Betty, if you’re interested, Mr. Chapman is trying to get a chapter started at the high school, too! He just found a teacher to serve as an advisor, but he could certainly use someone with your drive to get it flowing.”

“I’ll think about it,” Betty said. “I’m pretty busy right now, with the River Vixens and the Blue and Gold…”

She started to move, but Mr. Chapman stood in her way. “You should really think about it, Betty,” he said, looking directly into her eyes. “It could change your life.”

“I will,” Betty said, still smiling. After a moment, he let her go, and she and Rachel continued to the cafeteria.

“That was weird,” Betty muttered.

“You have no idea,” Rachel agreed.

***

Betty led Rachel to her usual lunch table, where the rest of her friends were also sitting down. Everyone but Jughead had a mentee in tow.

Rachel, focused on her tray, froze in surprise when she saw the other mentees, who were all looking at each other with similar looks of shock.

“So, do you guys know each other?” Kevin asked after a moment.

All four spoke at the same time.

“Jake’s my cousin -- “ Rachel said hastily, gesturing to Archie’s mentee.

“Marco and I have been best friends since we were in diapers -- “ Archie’s mentee, a big guy (as big as an eighth grader could be) stammered. Betty figured he must be Tom’s younger brother.

“Rachel and I are BFFs -- “ Kevin’s mentee, a black girl with close-cropped hair in overalls, squeaked.

Only Veronica’s mentee seemed to be cool with the situation. “Jake and Cassie are in luuuuurve,” he said, jerking his thumb between Archie’s and Kevin’s mentee. “Hey blondie, my name is Marco.”

“So, you all _do_  know each other. Could have just said so,” said Veronica. “Hey, Marco, if Jake and Cassie are a couple, should I ship you with Rachel?”

Rachel groaned. Marco leered at her. “You could, V. What do you say, Rachel? You know I burn, I pine, I perish.”

“Bug off,” Rachel muttered. At least, Betty thought that's what she said. The first word was a little indistinct.

Marco grinned and turned to the rest of the table. “Alas for me, Rachel’s more into birds than boys.” Rachel bared her teeth at him, while Jake and Cassie snickered. “But if you’re available, Veronica…”

“No way, _mi enano_.”

“... _Que_?”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” Kevin said gingerly. “I’m also more into birds than I am into... chicks. You’ll find that high school is way more accepting of these kinds of preferences than your middle school classmates.”

At this point, Jake, Cassie, and Marco were all silently convulsed with laughter, while Rachel appeared to be counting to ten under her breath. Betty figured she better jump in and salvage her mentee’s pride.

"Why aren’t you a mentor, Juggie?” Betty asked.

“I bet Weatherbee didn’t want my lack of school spirit to infect the incoming classes,” Jughead replied easily.

"Hold up. Your name is Juggie?" asked Marco.

“Jughead, actually. Is that too weird of a name for you?” Jughead asked through a mouth full of fries.

“Nah, I’m pretty used to weird names,” Marco said casually. Around the table, the rest of the eighth graders suddenly went straight-faced, as though trying not to laugh. _Strange_ , Betty thought. It wasn’t really that funny of a joke.

“Kev, any update on the Jason Blossom murder?” Jughead asked abruptly.

“Kevin’s the sheriff’s son, and he found Jason’s body last week,” Veronica explained to the middle schoolers in a stage whisper.

“While in the course of doing totally normal and platonic things that I’m not explaining to kids who have barely entered puberty,” Kevin said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “No, nothing new. Though I will say, I have a new appreciation for the destructive power of guns. They’re not just phallic symbols anymore.”

“It wasn’t a gun,” Betty said. Suddenly every head at the table swiveled toward her, and she flushed at the attention. “Not to ruin everyone’s lunch, but my mom got the autopsy report from a friend in the medical examiner’s office -- Kevin, please don’t tell your dad -- and it’s _weird_. Like, doesn’t make sense. She doesn’t want to publish it until she can talk to someone at the university.”

“What’s so weird about it?” asked Archie.

Betty took a sip before milk before answering. ”It wasn’t a gunshot wound. There was no trace of residue of gunpowder anywhere on his skin, which, okay, that might have been because of the immersion in Sweetwater River. But the body was iced for a while before it was released in the river. But the wound itself is perfectly symmetrical, and goes all the way through the skull. And - it’s too _neat._ Kevin, do you remember seeing a lot of blood?”

Kevin shook his head. “I was more overwhelmed by the whole finding-the-body thing to notice all the details..”

“You didn’t notice it because it wasn’t there. Because whatever was used to shoot Jason Blossom in the head cauterized the wound as it went. Whatever was used to kill him burned as it went through his skull.”

Jughead tilted his head at her as he went through the implications. “So...like a phaser? Like Star Trek?”

“That’s what it’s like, but that’s ridiculous.” Beside her, Rachel stiffened, gripping her fork tightly. “My parents have no idea what it means. And that’s not even the weirdest part.” She lowered her voice further. “When the ME was going through the autopsy, he had to cut around in Jason’s skull. And he found _something_ in his brain that wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Archie wrinkled his brow. “Like...a tumor?”

Betty shook her head. “It was, like, extra material surrounding the brain. I don’t know how to explain it. My mom’s convinced it was because of some kind of drug Jason took, but I don’t know how that would get in his brain. So she’s at the university today talking to a contact there in the neuroscience department to get an expert opinion before she publishes the article.”

Betty picked up her milk carton again, but realized she had completely lost her appetite. She looked up and realized all of the eighth graders were staring at her with looks of horror.

“Don’t worry, guys, murders like this never happen like this in Riverdale,” she said, automatically slipping into caretaker mode. “My parents are just a little obsessed with this because Jason was dating my older sister, and…”

“It’s okay, B.” Veronica patted her hand. “Don’t worry about the kids. They’ve got to grow up sometime.”

“Personally, nothing has shocked me since I googled ‘tubgirl’,” Marco said. Jughead’s and Kevin’s eyes both lit up, while everyone else looked at Marco with varying degrees of bemusement and exasperation.

“Marco, if you devoted half the time you devote to your hair care to -- “ Rachel started, and then broke off, head slightly inclined, as though she was listening to something no one else could hear. “Sorry, guys, I gotta -- cramps,” she said hastily, grabbing her bag from the table and heading towards the cafeteria door.

“Yeah, I, er, have her tampons,” Cassie said, “she’s going to need them.” She, too, grabbed her backpack and left suddenly.

“And I have the -- uh -- tampon-holders,” Tom’s brother said, “so I’m gonna -- see ya.” He, too, headed out, also forgetting his tray on the table.

All eyes turned to Marco, who gave a theatrical sigh. “I just saw three teens with a complete lack of cool, I’ve gotta go teach them how to get it back. Or in Jake’s case, get it at all. Guys, girls, it’s been fun.” He paused by Veronica’s chair. “ _Adios, mi princesa_. Is using Spanish working for me at all?”

“Not even a little bit,” Veronica replied, her eyes dancing with amusement.

“Great, I don’t really know any other words.” Marco placed his hand over his heart and said, “until we meet again,” before sauntering off. Too late, Betty realized that his byplay with Veronica -- sincere or not -- had kept her from investigating what was going on with his friends.

The remaining high schoolers sat in bemusement for a moment, until Archie broke the silence. “Did we just get ditched by a bunch of eighth graders?”

“Yes,” said Jughead. “Welcome to the ranks of being decrepit and ancient. JB has been making me feel this way since she was 8.”

“What made them all run off like that?” Betty wondered.

Kevin shook his head. “Don’t bother trying to figure out the ways of kids these days, Betty. They probably just found out that someone was shitposting their woke bae on Instagram and they had hashtag FOMO.”

“Do you know what any of those words mean?” Jughead asked.

“Not really, but at least I’m making an effort.”

“Hey V, congrats on being a cougar,” Betty teased.

Veronica laughed. “He’s a little heartbreaker, that one. If only he were taller.”

“So, speaking Spanish _is_ a turn-on for you, then?” Archie asked interestedly.

The bell rang then, saving Betty from witnessing more flirtation between her oldest friend and her best friend. It still gave her a bit of a pang, as much as she was trying to be okay with it, and she didn’t know what to do except distract herself.

Which is why she snagged Jughead’s arm as they were leaving the lunchroom, even though she was balancing her own tray and the trays the middle-schoolers had left behind.

“We’re still on for investigating today, right?”

Jughead nodded. Up close, she could see how deep the shadows were under his eyes, and she felt guilty for adding one more thing to his plate.

“Yeah. Up for a field trip?”

“To where?” It was automatic, and a ridiculously pedantic and useless rule, but Betty would be hanged before she ended a sentence with a preposition.

Jughead smiled wryly. Betty couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him smile non-sarcastically. “Where Jason Blossom’s body was found.”

***

“So have we gone full Nancy Drew?” Betty asked as they stood along the river edge.

“Please, Betty, my masculinity is fragile enough. I’m a Hardy Boy,” Jughead responded, but the response seemed automatic. For all that Jughead had instigated the trip, he seemed remarkably uninterested in the scene of the crime -- scene of the discovery? -- and was instead focused on the woods and sky around them.

Betty tried to focus and see what Jughead was seeing, but it was useless. There was the trickle of water from the river, the foliage beginning to be tinged with fall, some kind of big bird circling lazily overhead, and -- what else? Why look away from the river?

“Juggie, are you going to let me know what you’re looking for?” she asked finally.

There was a long pause before he answered. “I’m looking for...a connection,” he said finally. “I know we think of Riverdale as being completely idyllic, but there’s been a lot of strange stuff the last couple of years.”

Betty shrugged. “Jason Blossom. A new mayor. The Bulldogs had a losing season. Archie’s into music. What other weird stuff?”

“Bigger. On a more cosmic level.”

“What, is Mercury is in retrograde again?”

“Not…” Jughead shook his head. “Look, Betts, if I tell you something that might sound a little crazy, will you trust me?”

“Of course, Juggie.” She sat down against a maple tree, its leaves a delicious green canopy above her. He stood in the shade next to her, steadily refusing to meet her gaze.

“I’ve been doing some background research on Riverdale for my novel. There’s a lot going on here, but no one’s putting the pieces together. Did you know that Riverdale has the second-highest rate of reported extraterrestrial sightings in the country?”

“Extrater -- you mean, aliens?” Betty tried, and failed, to keep her mouth from dropping open in shock.

“Roswell is number one, but we’re number two. And the rate of people reporting sightings is increasing.”

“Again. Aliens?”

“It doesn’t have to be aliens,” Jughead said, a little desperately. “It means that something is going on, that people are thinking happens to be aliens. And -- did you know that Riverdale has one of the highest rates of institutionalizations in the country?” Jughead asked.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Betty replied coolly.

Jughead immediately gave her a chagrined look. “Christ, Betts, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s all right, Juggie.” She tried to keep focusing on what he was saying, but the image of Polly trapped in a building somewhere swam in front of her eyes as he went on.

He started ticking off points on his fingers, his voice pitched low. “Multiple buildings have suddenly collapsed, but there’s been no investigation into any individual construction firms. I found out that one because Mr. Andrews complained he has to pay higher rates to get bonds even though none of his buildings have been the ones that collapsed, so he's not at fault. There have been a bunch of missing people. Usually adults. Their bodies are never found. Last spring, there was a couple of girls who got lost somewhere along the river. They were separated, and they only managed to survive by eating mushrooms, but the point is, they were actually found. Most people aren’t. We’re definitely not in a drought, but there have been three or four major fires, and no investigations into why. And people keep saying they see wild animals at weird places downtown, but The Gardens never reports any animals being missing. There’s something going on.”

“And you think it’s aliens,” Betty said flatly.

“I think there’s something going on here,” Jughead said. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t think it’s aliens, but I’m trying to rule out the impossible, not the improbable. People reporting aliens just means that people are noticing aspects of something weird and trying to fit it into a pattern that makes sense. And I think it’s all connected with the Blossoms, too. Maybe they’re running some kind of human trafficking program, or practicing genetic manipulation on the local wildlife, or there’s some kind of drug in the maple syrup, or -- ”

“But you want it to be aliens, Juggie,” Betty said softly, affectionately. “I know you. I know the books you read and the TV shows you watch. You love science fiction. You _want_ it to be aliens.”

Jughead’s mouth worked silently for a moment, before he gave her a sweet, sincere smile. Something twinged in Betty’s chest at the sight of it: she hadn’t realized until then how much she’d missed it. “I forgot how well you know me, Betts.”

“It’s hard to forget, especially considering how many episodes of DS9 you made me sit through,” Betty grinned back at him.

“So maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m full of wishful thinking. Maybe there’s nothing there. Or maybe -- “

Jughead stopped suddenly and froze in place. Betty waited, but he said nothing. “Or?”

“Betty.” Jughead tried to speak without moving his mouth. “Don’t move your head, or make any sudden sounds, but look to your left.”

Betty resisted the urge to sigh noisily as she slowly turned. About thirty yards downstream, she saw a hoof in the water of Sweetwater River, the water rippling around it.

“Is that it? A deer?”

“That’s not a deer,” Jughead breathed. “Not unless deer have blue fur.”

Betty squinted. The fur on the deer did seem kind of bluish, blue and tan together. And there were...hands? A torso? Was that a human nearby? Or was it...a centaur?

_Wait, what?!_

“Take out your phone, slowly,” Jughead said, “and take a pic. This might be it.”

Betty reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone, and pressed the button for the camera. It was in selfie mode -- she’d tried, and failed, to get Rachel to pose for a selfie -- and it took her several tries to get her shaking fingers to hit the right button and zoom in.

The hoof was still in the water, and as she zoomed in closer, she saw that the creature had horns, and on the end of each horn was an eye. And the eye was looking at her.

Suddenly, the creature was gone, running out of sight so quickly it was just a blur. Jughead cursed. Betty started furiously checking to see if she had gotten a clear picture saved, when suddenly -

“BETTY!” Jughead shouted.

“TSEEEEEEEEEER!”

A giant bird of prey was zooming straight at her, attacking her -- Betty cringed, throwing up her hands to protect her head -- and was suddenly flying away.

“Hey! My phone! The bird just stole my phone!” Betty shouted, dumbfounded. She silently damned herself for setting Dropbox only to sync while charging.

“They _are_ genetically manipulating animals!” Jughead shouted. “This is proof!”

THWAPP!

Jughead was suddenly collapsed next to her, unconscious.

“JUGGIE!” Betty screamed.

THWAPP!

And suddenly Betty was sinking down, down, down.

The last thing Betty was aware of was not-quite-hearing her mentee shouting, “What the hell is Betty freaking Cooper doing here?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For village_skeptic, who has been a friend for nearly twenty years through many fandoms, and whose sheer unholy glee at getting me both into Riverdale and back into writing fanfic has fueled everything about this.
> 
> Somehow, this fic manages to fit in both timelines with only minimal massaging. For Animorphs, the fic fits around #24 (and actually ties in closely with a previous book), while for Riverdale fans, this starts between episode 1.03 and 1.04, and then swiftly diverges. 
> 
> For the sweet baby cinnamon rolls who have no idea what Animorphs even is -- don't worry, all will be explained.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead wake up in the woods, and find it surprisingly difficult to get straight answers. Featuring many, many callbacks, weird canon convergences, and a possibly-talking horse (of course, of course).

 

**The Reveal  
** **Chapter 2**

By all rights, being knocked unconscious should involve a dream sequence where someone important to you mentions cryptic truths or at least drops some foreshadowing or a clue that your subconscious can put together.

But all Betty Cooper got was a minor headache and slightly blurry vision when she looked at the girl she had been supposed to guide through high school that day. _Figures._

“Betty?” Rachel asked. “You okay?”

Betty squinted to clear her vision. Rachel was kneeling next to her, dressed in a black leotard and leggings and somehow still looking like a fashion model. “Rachel? What are you doing here?”

“Are you guys okay? I was riding my friend Cassie’s horse and I saw this giant tree branch fall down and hit you both on the head. Knocked you out totally cold.”

“What?” Betty’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t -- but -- there was a bird and it took my phone, and then -- “ _we might have seen an alien_ , she wanted to say, but the cool skepticism on the other girl’s face, and the fear of being thought of as “crazy”, kept her from blurting it out.

“Whoa, that’s ridiculous. Birds don’t steal phones,” Rachel scoffed. “Is your phone even missing?”

Betty dug her hand into her purse and found her phone inside, though it wasn’t in the pocket she usually put her phone in. She quickly swiped it open and looked at the camera gallery: the most recent picture there was a selfie of her and Veronica from yesterday. No blurry pictures of mutated blue deer at all.

“See? You must have dreamed the whole bird thing after the branch hit you. But hey, sometimes when you get knocked out, you can, like, hallucinate things that aren’t really there. My one friend, he got knocked out by a window once, and he thought he was in a really weird game of Clue for a while.”

Betty stared at Rachel, her mouth open slightly.   _That is a lot of talking she’s doing._  Then she caught sight of Jughead, still unconscious several feet away on the river bank, and all thoughts flew out of her head as she went to his side. “Oh no! Juggie!” She brushed a hand across his forehead where a bruise was starting to form. “Are you okay? Juggie, talk to me.”

Betty kept talking for a minute or two until he started stirring. When his eyes focused on her, he made a half-smile. “Hey, Cooper. What did I miss?”

“You’re okay!” Betty flung her arms around him in relief.

Jughead stiffly returned the hug. “More or less. _What happened?_ ”

“It’s all fuzzy,” Betty said as she pulled away, meeting his eyes and hoping he would get the intended message of _no aliens, no genetically-manipulated animals, not here, not in front of the eighth grader._ “We both got knocked unconscious, and Rachel here found us,” Betty recapped.

“By a tree branch,” Rachel piped in. “It was dramatic.”

“Where’s the branch?” Jughead asked. _I should have asked that,_  Betty thought.

Rachel tilted her head to one side. “It broke when it hit your head, I threw the pieces in the river.” She met Jughead’s stare with a look Betty couldn’t define.

“You must be pretty strong,” Jughead responded after a moment.

The strangely tense moment was broken by a horse whinnying as it entered the clearing. Betty’s eye, well-experienced with horses -- like most girls she knew, she’d gone through a massive horse-loving phase in elementary school and had devoured the collected works of Marguerite Henry -- was impressed: this horse looked like it was ready to run the Kentucky Derby.

“Here’s my horse,” Rachel announced blithely. “Well, Cassie’s horse. I don’t know if you guys should walk, you both look kind of dizzy and I’m worried about you having concussions, so I can walk you to the bus stop or wherever you need.”

A few moments of conversation revealed that Jughead had parked his dad's truck very close to Cassie’s farm -- honestly, if Betty hadn’t met Cassie earlier that day, she would have thought Rachel had made her up, everything about her seemed so convenient -- and that Rachel would lead the teens to Cassie’s barn first, so that she could drop off the horse, and then show them the way to the National Park parking lot where the truck was.

Just one question remained for Betty: “How are you going to get us both on the horse without a saddle or bridle?”

Rachel stared at her blankly. “Why would we need that? He’s very gentle.”

As though on cue, the horse walked over to Betty and Jughead and sat down in front of them docilely.  

“What’s the horse’s name?” Betty asked.

“Aah -- Mr. Ed,” Rachel said, patting the horse’s head. “Cassie’s dad loves his classic TV.”

“Does he talk?” Jughead asked wryly.

“Once he starts, it’s pretty hard to get him to shut up.” The horse flicked his tail, as though in agreement.

 _This is too weird,_  Betty thought. “Don’t you have reins, or a bit, or anything?”

Rachel shrugged. “Don’t need them.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse bareback,” Betty pointed out. “And I’m pretty sure Jughead has never ridden a horse at all.” Jughead nodded vigorously. “Why don’t you ride and show us the way?”

Rachel smiled, or at least she bared her teeth. “Because you both have possible concussions,” she said, “and I’m the only one who knows how to lead you back to civilization. Unless you’d like to stay in the forest overnight, with the wolves and the bugs and the skunks.”

“The sooner we get out of here, the better,” Jughead muttered. “All right. Let’s do it.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow but said nothing else.

***

Rachel hadn’t lied about Mr. Ed being gentle, but he was still a horse walking in the middle of a forest without an obvious trail, so it was not exactly comfortable.

It took a bit of trial and error, but eventually Betty and Jughead worked out that because Betty had better balance, the best way for them to both ride the horse without reins or a saddle was for Jughead to get on first, clutching tightly to Mr. Ed’s mane, and for Betty to ride behind him, with her arms wrapped around his waist to steady him.

It was basically a reverse Prince Charming scenario, and the awkwardness of having to basically wrap her body around Jughead and keep herself pressed against him while Rachel walking besides them stopped Betty from wanting to make conversation. Though Rachel didn’t really seem to care about them -- either she really did travel these woods a lot, or she was communicating with the horse through telepathy, because she never visibly interacted with the horse, but Mr. Ed knew always exactly where to go even without an obvious trail, and Rachel never had an issue even though she was walking barefoot, somehow.

Betty gritted her teeth and tried to focus on anything but the bounces of the horse’s gait. Then she focused on the bounces. Then she thanked her lucky stars that at least it was Jughead she was holding onto, and not some guy who would make it weird, and at least Jughead smelled good, like soap and coffee and maybe a little bit like the fries he had eaten at lunch and hold on, was she really thinking about the way that Jughead _smelled?_

With an effort, Betty went back to focusing on the bounces.

After an indeterminable amount of the horse walking, the forest thinned and turned into a sprawling farm. Rachel led the horse straight into a large barn -- “this is Cassie’s barn,” she said offhandedly -- and told the horse to sit, at which point Mr. Ed suddenly folded its legs and dropped to the ground.

“That was a supposedly fun thing I’ll never do again,” muttered Jughead, taking off his jacket and tying it firmly around his waist before he stood up.

As Rachel led Mr. Ed to the stalls, Betty heard her cooing to the horse, “did you like meeting your new friends? Would you like to invite your doggy friends to play with your new friends? Maybe we can arrange that, soon.”

 _What?_  Betty tried to catch Jughead’s eye, but he was looking around the barn, where a variety of injured animals were in cages. Betty tried to see what had caught his attention but when she tried looking at the nearest cage, all she saw was a giant bird of prey staring balefully at her as it clawed at the metal bars of its cage.

 _I’ve worried about going crazy before, but maybe Rachel is_ actually _insane?_

“Okay, Jughat, we can go to your car now,” Rachel said as she returned from the horse stall. Jughead tilted his head to one side at the misnaming but said nothing.

“Don’t you need to water Mr. Ed and make sure he’s okay?” Betty asked. That had always been a lengthy process when Betty had taken lessons.

Rachel looked at Betty with utter bafflement, the way Veronica had looked when Betty had mentioned going to a yard sale. “Oh, Cassie will handle that,” she shrugged, and headed towards the door.

Jughead raised an eyebrow at Betty -- okay, _now_  he was willing to make eye contact with her -- and followed Rachel. Betty blew out her breath and followed.

They had made it maybe fifty feet when they saw a tall, black, and bespectacled man waving at them from the front porch of the house. “Hey Rachel! Thought you could leave without saying hi, eh?”

Rachel gritted her teeth but stopped. “Betty, Jughat, this is my friend Cassie’s dad. He runs the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, the clinic for helping injured wild animals we just saw. They’re just leaving.”

Cassie’s dad grinned broadly as he shook Betty and Jughead’s hands. “Please, call me Walter. Oh, and it’s the Blossom Wildlife Rehabilitation Center now -- they just sent me a big sign that I need to put up.”  
  
“Blossom?” asked Betty diffidently. “Do the Blossoms fund the center?”

Walter nodded his head. “We’ve been running for about ten years, ever since we moved out here, but we lost our grant recently, and it looked like we might go under. But Cassie ended up saving one of the Blossoms when they both got lost in the woods a few months back -- a niece or cousin or someone -- and the family’s been funding us ever since. Pretty nice of them, really.”

“Your daughter was lost in the woods?” Jughead asked curiously. “Did she survive by eating mushrooms?”

“That’s right!” Walter laughed. “I’ve been teaching her about woodland survival since she was a kid. Glad that my baby girl actually learned something from me!”

Jughead and Betty exchanged looks. “Do you think she’d be interested in an interview with the Blue and Gold -- that’s our high school newspaper?” Betty asked sweetly.

Walter nodded, but Rachel cut in. “I don’t think Cassie would like to give interviews, she’s pretty shy.”

Walter’s shoulders slumped. “That’s true...”  
  
“But we would also be interested in interviewing you, sir,” Betty said sweetly. “It would be really interesting to find out more about the philanthropic initiatives from one of our high school’s most prominent families…”

Betty hadn’t been raised by two journalists for nothing: in a few minutes more of conversation, she knew she’d have Walter’s cell phone number and email address, half of his life story, and an open invitation to come back anytime.

“Ohmigod, we’ve really got to go, we’re all going to be late,” Rachel burst out suddenly.

“All right, you kids have fun and stay safe,” Walter said easily. “Rachel, I guess we’ll be seeing you again -- with or without your cousin?”

“Can neither confirm nor deny any rumors about Cassie and my cousin. But we gotta go. Thanks for the talk!”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. “But I don’t -- I -- “

Walter was already heading back into the house. Betty dug her nails into her palms for a moment, then uncurled her fists and planted her feet in the ground. “What was that?”

“Come on,” Rachel said. “Let’s go already. It’s getting dark.”

“No.” Betty crossed her arms. “Not another step until you tell us what’s going on.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “What is your problem?”

“Excuse me, what is _your_  problem?” Betty shot back. “You have been nothing but rude to us all afternoon. You interrupted our conversation with Walter, you’ve treated us like dirt, you keep getting Jughead’s name wrong -- “

“It’s not the worst thing anyone’s called me,” Jughead said quietly. Betty sent him a quelling look.

“ -- not the point, Juggie -- and you just arrived at the river out of nowhere just like you left school today, and you’ve been acting really weird all day, and we were in the middle of a _conversation_  with Walter and you just shut it down for no reason, and it's not like we’re out here in the forest for no reason, we came out here to investigate and now the whole day is shot because you are _rude_.”

Rachel’s icy blue eyes locked onto Betty’s. “What are you investigating, exactly?”

For a moment, the world took a breath.  Betty matched Rachel’s glare. “We’re investigating Jason Blossom’s murder. The town has changed because of it. Something really bad happened here, and I want to know why. I want to find out the truth, so all of Riverdale can heal.”

A long moment passed before Rachel nodded. “Okay. So, I was being weird before, and I’m sorry. The thing is…” Rachel bit her lip. “You heard Cassie’s dad, right? My best friend was missing in the woods for a week. She fell off her horse and got knocked unconscious, and then got swept downstream by the river. It was super traumatic for all of us -- for her, especially. I didn't want you talking to her and making her have to relive it. And when I saw you guys in the woods, about to fall into the river, I freaked a little. It must have been, like, trauma. I have a problem, taking it out on the wrong people.”

Betty paused. Rachel's voice was ragged. Every syllable dripped with sincerity. Betty could practically see her walls falling down. This new piece of information suddenly made everything weird about Rachel’s behavior make sense (though Betty didn’t understand how she was managing to walk around outside barefoot). Of course she was so weird and distraught at finding them in the woods, and wanted to make sure they got back to the car safe. All Betty had to do was imagine that it was Archie who had gotten lost in the woods, and she could imagine herself acting just as weirdly.

“It’s okay,” she said to the younger girl. “I understand. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It’s okay," Rachel echoed. "You didn’t know.”

“I should have assumed better of you,” Betty said sincerely. 

Rachel half-smiled, her eyes growing distant. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

***

The rest of the walk back to Jughead’s truck happened without conversation. Betty was dying to ask how Rachel was still barefoot, especially once they got into the parking lot, but didn’t feel comfortable trying to breach the other girl’s defenses any further.

Jughead climbed into the truck to get it started. Betty was about to swing around to the other side when Rachel caught her sleeve.

“Hey. Betty. Are you, um.” Rachel paused. “You know how this morning, Chapman was asking you to join The Sharing?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, are you planning on joining?”

Betty wrinkled her nose. “Honestly, not really, I’m pretty busy with the River Vixens and the school paper as it is.”

“Okay, good. Don’t,” Rachel blurted out. “It sounds awesome at first, but they treat people horribly once they join. My cousin's in it and they make him do all sorts of, like, really tedious stuff. And -- and you’re too nice for that.”

Betty smiled. “Thanks, Rachel. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Betty swung up into the truck and put her seatbelt on, raising an eyebrow at Jughead until he buckled as well. She pulled out her cell phone to check if they had reception yet -- nope -- and glanced up to see Rachel already retreating into the woods.

“That was weird,” Jughead said finally as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah.” Betty started to put her phone back, but stopped when she saw the new scratches on her phone case, that went almost the entire width of the back of the device.

“Rachel definitely seemed suspicious.”

“She was lying to us,” Betty said absently, staring at her phone.

“What? I mean, I agree, she was definitely lying about something, but I’m a confirmed misanthrope. You, not so much. I expect you to have more faith in your fellow man, etc.”

Betty’s lips twitched at Jughead’s amused tone, but she remained serious. “Tell me what happened, from your perspective, right before you were knocked out.”

“All right, Cooper. So, you and I were talking, I saw something that looked like -- a blue deer, or something like that -- you tried to take a picture, a giant bird swooped in out of nowhere and swiped your phone, and then...nothing. The next thing I remember is seeing your face.” .

Betty nodded. “Right. I remember all of that. I got knocked unconscious a few seconds after you. But when Rachel came up, she said that was impossible, and that I had hallucinated.” They pulled up to a red light, and, Betty held up her phone so Jughead could see the grooves scratched into her case. “When I told Rachel a bird stole my phone, she basically told me that I was crazy. But here are scratches on my phone case, just like the ones on the cages in the barn. These weren’t there before. They weren’t from anything in my bad.”

Jughead let out a low whistle. “Wow. She gaslighted you.”

“Gaslighted?” A horn sounded behind them: the light had changed and neither had noticed.  Jughead hastily started driving again.

“It’s a form of abuse where you try to convince someone that what they see and hear and experience aren’t real. It’s from an old movie called _Gaslight_. Ingrid Bergman stars as a woman who’s slowly being driven mad by her husband, who keeps convincing her that her experiences aren’t real and she’s unfit to be in society, all so that he can look for her aunt’s jewels without her interference. It’s a cinematic masterpiece. I would try getting it on the schedule if the Twilight weren’t closing this weekend, but the people of Riverdale are such philistines that they don’t appreciate what they have.”

Jughead continued talking, but Betty tuned him out: while she was happy to see Jughead passionate about something, she had heard a variation of this rant at least five times since the news had broken that the Twilight drive-in was being closed, with the term “capitalist cronyism” being used at least twice.

His description of gaslighting had triggered something deep inside her that she didn’t know if she could confess to Jughead or to Veronica or even to Archie. The idea that someone could tell you to your face that your experiences weren’t real, or that your feelings weren’t really what you were feeling… Betty had never had a word for that before, but that was life with Alice and Hal Cooper as your parents.

Just thinking that, even in the privacy of her own mind, made her want to dig her fingernails into her palms.

Whenever her parents had been especially extreme, whenever their insistence on performing appearances was too much, Polly had been her touchstone, the person who could reassure Betty, let her know that yes, their parents’ expectations were weird and overpowering, yes, this wasn’t what other people had to go through, yes, they were going to get out of their parents' house someday…

And now Polly was in an institution somewhere, and her parents wouldn’t give her a straight answer as to why or where. And she hadn’t heard a word from Polly in months.   

Betty missed her sister like a phantom limb.

“Earth to Betty,” Jughead said. Betty sat up with a start. “Easy there. We’re almost back to town. Should I take you back to your place?”

Betty nodded. “My parents will be wondering where I am.”

That wasn’t strictly true -- she knew they’d both be working at the Register that night -- but Betty needed some time to herself, away from Jughead’s perceptive eyes.

He dropped her off a few minutes later. “Stay safe, Betts.”

“You too, Juggie.”

Betty let herself into her empty house and walked up to her room. Out of habit, she looked through her bedroom window to see if Archie was there, but like it usually was lately, the boy’s bedroom was dark.

As the daughter of two journalists, Betty had had ample opportunity to watch her parents closely. She’d even attended guest lectures they’d given at the local community college in Greendale. Her father always drilled into his students that they needed to know the facts before they could start a story: who, what, where, when, and why needed to be established, so that the story could tell the “how”. Her mother favored finding the narrative angle through which the story could be told.

Betty picked up her diary, flipped to a new page, and began to write a list.

WHO

\-- Jason Blossom’s killer ???

WHAT

\-- animals acting weirdly (gene manip? Blue dye?)  
\-- Jason Blossom’s death -- how?  
\-- buildings collapsing  
\-- alien sightings (or something)

WHERE

\-- all over Riverdale  
\-- Sweetwater river  
\-- look up building collapses -- ask Mr. Andrews?

WHEN  
  
\-- the last year or so? Increased activity since Jason’s death?

WHY  
  
\-- something in the water?  
\-- drugs?  
\-- alien invasion? (j/k)

Betty looked back at the list and wrinkled her nose. Normally, this kind of activity helped her build a newspaper story, but these were just hanging threads that couldn’t build to any kind of narrative. Nothing made any sense at all.

“But something’s happening,” Betty said aloud. “I know it. And I’m going to find out what.”

She looked out the window again at Archie’s bedroom, hoping he was home. No dice. The only change was that there was now a large owl in the tree outside her window, glaring balefully at her with yellow eyes.

She picked up her pen again and thought about writing down Rachel’s name under the “who”. But maybe not -- even if Rachel did know something, or had some kind of weird connection with animals, that didn’t mean she knew anything about Jason Blossom’s murder, or was connected at all.

She did write down “talks to birds and horses” under “what”, though.

Betty sighed, closed her journal, and pulled open her computer to start her research.

***

And there it was, the weirdest day of Betty’s life.

Or so she thought at the time. She would later realize that the weird days were only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in writing chapter 2: I ended up having to scrap much of my first draft of this chapter because the voice wasn’t right. (Thank you to my beautiful beta blissfuloblivion for informing me of that in the kindest possible way. Also, for stepping in and volunteering baby-sitting duties. I've never needed a baby-sitter to finish a fic before. We're so old.) This was not where the end of this chapter was supposed to be, but it is where the end of this chapter decided to be.
> 
> If anyone would like to read more about Cassie getting lost in the woods and saving the life of the redheaded scion of a wealthy family who ends up funding the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, check out Animorphs #19: The Departure. I’ve had to do so little work to make this crossover work, it’s actually kind of unnerving. This fic is actually a semi-sequel to another Animorphs book: I’m really curious to see if anyone guesses which.
> 
> I had to figure out some fairly convoluted Google image searches to find pictures of two people riding horses bareback: I hope you appreciate the effort I go through to ensure accuracy (she says about a fic that combines aliens with the ludicrous quagmire of plot holes that is Riverdale). 
> 
> As always, the initial inspiration for this fic came from village_skeptic, and it is written for her, even if she needs an intervention on her Ghoulie obsession.


End file.
